


Forgotten Polaroids

by Melted_Water, purplegoose



Series: MDZS Prompts (co collaboration) [1]
Category: MDZS, Mo Dao Zu Shi, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)
Genre: Angst, College, Dark, Depression, Dorm Room, Drinking, Edgy, Flashbacks, Fun, Hurt, Love, M/M, Memories, Modern AU, One Shot, Pain, Photos, Post Break Up, Prompt Fic, Romance, Short Story, Summer, Summer School, TRIGGER WARNINGS IN END NOTES, Trauma, Young Love, but light colors, fall - Freeform, im shit at tags, no comfort, polaroid camera, polaroids, tw, young adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melted_Water/pseuds/Melted_Water, https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplegoose/pseuds/purplegoose
Summary: "Memories flew across my face, ghosting touches lingering on my sweaty skin. Smells and sounds washed over me, begging to pull me back into the well of memories that housed my best days and darkest nightmares."Wei Wuxian is curled up on his bed the last weekend before the fall semester starts. After finding an old box of memories, he isn't quite sure if they will ever live outside of these forgotten polaroids.
Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn
Series: MDZS Prompts (co collaboration) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083746
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Forgotten Polaroids

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt challenge. Melted_Water and I gave each other the word "polaroid" and said "go write a one-shot about it" so we did. Theirs is on their profile and in the same series if you wanna check it out! (Polaroids by Melted_Water)

I brought my knees closer to my chest; bunching, grey sweatshirt material kept me from folding in on myself. The old, faded boxers I had on were barely longer than the oversized clothing that engulfed my torso and hands. 

The room slowly came into focus, dim light began trickling in the blinds and my thick eyelashes. The red light in the corner of my eye was from my cracked alarm clock, 12:47pm imprinted itself on my mushy brain.

It was the last Saturday before classes started up again, before my senior year of college, and I was spending it barely able to get out of bed.

My clammy feet tried pulling themselves out of the little corner of white sheets still hanging onto my bed, but the sweat made everything too sticky.

Everything had seemed a little sticky.

Hair clung to my cheeks as I lolled my head to the side. Everything felt too warm and too cold at the same time. It was as if my body was unable to regulate itself.

I supposed that it had always been like that. 

My ribcage ached as I sighed, sinking further into the creaky mattress. Classes for the fall semester hadn’t started yet, but I was able to stay in my dorm because of summer school.

Ah, summer school. The best and worst mistake I ever made.

I was brushing some greasy bits of hair out of my eyes when I realized that the rain had finally stopped.

The silence was deafening. The last time my room was this silent was a memory not accessible to me; it was lost somewhere in the dark passages of my mind and unable to come back out into the growing light. 

In the growing light, a faint glow caught my dry eyes. 

The inside of my cheek felt bloody and raw by the time I had decided to get up and figure out what was mildly blinding me. The glowing light only seemed to be getting brighter and brighter with each blink I took.

The scratchy, grey carpet felt so foreign against my bare feet. When was the last time I had gotten out of bed? 

Dots of black and blue danced across my vision, buckling knees gave me my answer. Too long. 

The dots faded into the pastel yellow walls, and my joints only were stiff as I walked towards the open closet. Wooden floorboards and my bones cracked in unison. 

Piles of clothes covered the floor of my closet, some jackets dangling from their hooks and threatening to crash down upon my head. Metal racks covered with textbooks and old papers seemed so much smaller than I remembered. It all seemed so much smaller.

A pair of ripped black jeans caught my eye, and I chucked them across the room. Foul words fell out of my mouth as I took a moment to breathe and start over my search.

The glowing light was bright but flickering. It seemed to only ever catch the corner of my eye. I feared that madness was going to consume me before I found what was causing this strange phenomenon.

Finally, my hands and eyes rested on a smushed and half-open shoebox, something glimmering right underneath the lid.

I brought the shoebox close to my chest, a million thoughts ran through my head all at once. It was almost impossible to try and hold onto one to figure out exactly what I was thinking.

I had no idea what I was thinking.

More hair fell out of the loose ponytail I had as I threw the box onto the twin bed, almost bouncing it off and onto the floor. With the collar of the sweatshirt hanging off of my right shoulder, it felt so strange to feel the hair graze the top of it. This was the longest my hair had ever been.

The back of my head itched, begging for the dark locks to be shaved off. For a new start.

There wasn’t any point in starting over. 

I lifted the blue and grey lid off, thumbs brushing against the crushed corners. 

Dozens and dozens of polaroids looked back at me, plastic shining in the pale light of the room. The camera itself nestled between a broken steel locket and an empty bottle of cologne. The metal flashed against my burning eyes.

Were they all still here? How long had these been sitting and collecting dust? Was it wise to open the box?

Wise was never a word used to describe me, so why start trying to label myself now?  
I started grabbing photos and placing them on the bed, covers completely thrown to the floor as I went faster.

Memories flew across my face, ghosting touches lingering on my sweaty skin. Smells and sounds washed over me, begging to pull me back into the well of memories that housed my best days and darkest nightmares.

All I could see was him staring back at me.

Dozens of polaroids held photos of us together, shining smiles and crinkling eyes. Black hair and blue clothes covered almost every inch of my bed. Gold eyes and the hint of a smile clutched my heart in a fist. Strong arms and silent looks engulfed me.

He was the only thing that was ever able to cool my burning skin, to douse the flames that always seemed to be licking the inside of my brain. 

My shaking fingertips hovered over all of the photos. Bright sunlight and so many memories flooded the room I stood in. The sheer force of them threatened to pull me under waves of white and blue, black and gold.

Each photo took a turn resting in my hand, pulling at my heartstrings.

Lan Wangji had his arms wrapped around me, two pieces of hair had fallen and framed his face. I was laughing because he was normally so neat and slick with his hair. A bit of whipped cream clung to the tip of my nose, a straw peeking out of the corner of the photo. Our summer school homework was long forgotten.

Our first date. 

He was pouring over a book, shirtless and early morning light spilling over his pale skin. Faint hickies peppered themselves along the underside of his collarbones. Determination screamed out of his fixated eyes.

The morning after our first time.

I was sleeping against the arm of a couch, holding a little ball of fluff in my arms. The yellow lamplight glew against my red sweater, shadowing his bunny. Bits of black hair had gotten stuck to the corners of my open mouth. A slight blurriness came from the photo.

Lan Wangji had been stifling a laugh while taking a photo of me at his childhood home.

We had stood together, holding sparklers and pressing our lips together as fireworks crackled overhead. Gold and blue flared against the inky black around us; red and hot white sparked out of the sticks in our hands. My smile pressed against his soft lips still sent shivers down my spine.

I had dragged Lan Wangji to the midsummer celebration in the park, getting one of our friends to take the photo for us.

Planes of pale skin stood out against white sheets. Black hair loose and out of its normal place in a bun fanned around him, brushing against the forearms resting near the sides of his head. Defined muscle and soft cotton filled the entire photo. Not an inch of him was covered or hidden.

He always looked so beautiful when he posed for me.

White ribbon laced itself around my wrists. Unlike him, my skin was not clear but covered in spots of purple and marks left from loving teeth. My hair had fallen out of my ponytail in sweaty clumps, black standing out against blushing pink. Red knees pressed themselves into the mattress. Bright light from the window sent horizontal stripes against my slick stomach. Burn scars and spare cuts from childhood and days in the engineering center faded away in the white glow.

He always managed to make me feel beautiful.

Doodles across the borders of the photos and dates squished along the white edgings flashed across my mind. I had always tried to doodle on his perfect skin, to add a fake blemish to make him feel more human. To make him seem more real and less like a figment of my imagination.

Whenever Lan Wangji was with me, it was like we were in our own little world. We were away from all of the drama and dullness that filled day to day life. Together, we were like stars floating alongside each other in the vast and vibrant universe. 

Even blue stars could burn out, especially when paired with an angry red.

My hand held onto the last photo, the burning behind my eyes almost unbearable.

He wore a grey sweatshirt, arm over my shoulder. The collar of a white shirt hung over the edge, highlighting his defined jaw. Those bright and smiling eyes were looking at me, mouth slightly open. My head nestled into his touch, red flannel sleeves and ripped black jeans pressing against him. 

We were curled up on a subway to a party, the end of July party that almost everyone seemed to go to. Cool wind had blown through the open windows and given me a perfect excuse to steal his sweatshirt shortly after the photo.

He never got it back.

Pain stabbed me in the chest. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the party, he only went because I begged and pleaded. The entire time we were there, he spent it trying to get away from other people. He spent it trying to pull me out of the crowds and away from the large couches.

I should have listened to him, I should have never made us go in the first place.

Dark lighting and the smell of cigarettes started to submerge me in a night I wished to forget; I drank to forget. Meaty hands and blurry faces too close to me, touching places I didn’t want them to; they moved my hands to places I never wanted to prod. Sweat against my cheeks and Absinthe heavy on my tongue. My entire body felt heavy like lead, frozen for the first time in my life.

My lips locked up when rum met them.

Lan Wangji’s yelling was the only thing that unlocked my joints, his heavy feet pounding away got me to move again. 

I had no idea what it looked like. All I knew was what it felt like, cold fear and disgust keeping me locked in ice. 

He didn’t know what it felt like. All he knew was what it looked like. 

Fire flickered against my tongue again, screams shredding my throat. Something had fallen to the floor and broke, it wasn’t until I opened the shoebox again that I figured out what. 

“Get lost! If you think I’m a whore like that, then I’m tired of pretending to love you. Get the fuck out of my face!” I cried. My heart scalded the insides of my ribs, lies cracking them.

He didn’t say anything while walking out, but that icy chill fell over the room once he left. It sank into my bones and froze me to the floor while I sobbed.

Holding the photo with the light after rain coming through, the room felt too warm. 

My legs gave out from under me, my body crashing back into the mattress. Dozens of photos bent around me while I clutched the memory of us on the subway close to my heart. Plastic crinkled against his grey sweatshirt.

Hot and cold flashed across my skin, the room glowing gold as the light burst through the flimsy blinds. The red blur of my alarm clock was too far away to read, but it washed over my shaking body nonetheless.

Everything grew dark again as my eyelids grew heavier, shudders wracking my body. Aching knees pulled themselves up to my chest again. Hair clung to me with sweat.

Red stars went dim and burned out too, the only memory of their brightness trapped in forgotten polaroids.

**Author's Note:**

> tw/cw sexual assault, depression
> 
> if you want to listen to music while you read, I wrote this while listening to "Colors" and "Is There Somewhere" by Halsey. Just for fun, not a requirement.


End file.
